Five Times Itachi Remembered Iruka
by azzami
Summary: They were the same age, both of them. They both turned out so differently, and yet... And yet.


I like making this two as friends, it's sort of sad if you think about it. One turns out to be a sweet, gentle man, and the other turns out to be a mass murderer. They are the same age but they both turned out so differently, that's how life is, really. It's upsetting when you think about these things.

* * *

Itachi had been in the Academy since the age of five years. He had stayed there for two years before graduating. And he had spent one year with Umino Iruka. The stupid boy had swaggered into class the first day of the year late. He had laughed at the sensei and strutted to the seat beside Itachi. Then with a loud _thump, _the boy places his books beside Itachi and gives him a big smile and wink. When Itachi makes no reaction and instead turns away disdainfully, he did not see Umino Iruka's face crumple for a moment before reasserting its mischievousness.

_And that was the prologue._

The second time when he was surprised by Iruka was when he felt warm, nimble fingers jabbing and tickling him in the sides. The sensei was in the midst of a lesson, detailing stuff on the kunai trajectory and angles and whatnot, and here was, agh, Iruka jabbing at him. What was worse that Iruka was jabbing at his sensitive sides. His ticklish spots. His tickly, tickly, _agh dammit he can't stand it anymore,_ and he retaliates with a ferocious elbow jab to Iruka's side. He got a certain satisfaction in watching Iruka's face turn brilliant red as he fell off his chair and attracted the attention of the whole class.

_And that was the beginning._

The third time was when Iruka had sprang out behind him when he was walking home and bellowed loudly into his ear. It didn't work. Iruka had only been in the Academy for what, three months and Itachi had been there for two years. And he was a genius. So instead of yelling out in fear or shock, Uchiha Itachi very calmly spun around on his heel and sent a heap of sharp, pointy-edged books into Iruka's stomach. He only savoured his victory for a grand total of eight seconds before Iruka threw himself bodily at him and tackled him to the ground. He got a disdainful look from his father for his dirty clothes. But he couldn't get Iruka's stupid victory dance and even stupider yelp which he emitted after Itachi started throwing books at him out of his head.

_And that was the joy._

The fourth time was when Itachi had entered a dango shop and found Iruka yammering away to the boss. He was telling him, as far as Itachi could gather, about various amazing shinobi adventures that somehow all involved pretty maidens and evil, ugly-looking daimyos and stupid, ugly shinobi. Itachi had dropped down quietly into a corner and listened, jangling his coins in his hand. He sat there for a long time, half-hidden in the shadows and listening to the class idiot's nonsensical yammering. It made for good listening.

_And that was the story-webs._

The fifth time, Itachi was older, and slurping at ramen noodles. It was good food, rich, hot and tasty, he had to admit. It was not surprising that Iruka loved it so much. Not surprisingly enough, Iruka was perched two seats away from him, attacking his ramen. They had not deigned to speak to each other, had not nodded in brief recognition, and had not blinked briefly. Itachi had a straw hat covering his head and a scratch struck through his headband, while Iruka was dressed in dark green and with a headband tied around, proudly his forehead. When they left the shop, they touched each other for a while, just a brief quick breeze across the other's hand, and they had turned and stared at each other for a -_too quick_- second. Then Iruka had blinked at him, and Itachi could have sworn he saw tears, and he was gone.

_And that was the pain._

He still liked to remember this little wispy memory webs.

* * *

I have reached the end. It hints at a bit more than platonic friendship, if you squint with a magnifying glass. Or a microscope. And tilt your head at a very precise, very certain angle. 


End file.
